


New Masks

by DictionaryWrites



Series: Patrician & Clerk [11]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ankh-Morpork, Biting, Class Differences, Complicated Relationships, Humor, Identity Porn, Kissing, M/M, Repression, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 12:44:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18120980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: “Stoker Blake,” Drumknott said, “I am spoken for. I will give you one moment to step back and away from—” Drumknott’s tongue stopped moving in his mouth, and he stared up at Blake’s face.Blake’s face was… Handsome, yes. Angular. He had a hard chin and a hard jawline beneath the scruff of his beard, and beneath the moustache, Drumknott could see that his lips were very thin. His eyebrows were bushy, yes, but they had a sort of angular—Understanding dawned.Drumknott punched Vetinari in the jaw.





	New Masks

**Author's Note:**

> Had a request for Drumknott first meeting Stoker Blake!

“You can have the afternoon off,” Vetinari murmured, and immediately, Drumknott inhaled, leaning forward on his toes and looking hopefully at the other man. Vetinari wasn’t looking at him, his gaze focused on his paperwork as he corrected spelling errors in one of the reports from the Watchhouse, and Drumknott took a step closer to his desk. He was excited at the very prospect of going back down to Simnel’s workshop, settling in with the stokers, but—

“I needn’t, sir,” he said softly, and Vetinari glanced up at him, his icy eyes alight with amusement. “I’ve already taken half a dozen afternoons off this year.”

“I know,” Vetinari murmured, his lips shifting into a small smirk, and he leaned back in his seat, gesturing with one finger for Drumknott to cross over to his side of the desk, and Drumknott did, inhaling as Vetinari’s hand drew underneath Drumknott’s suit jacket, settling onto his hip and squeezing. “But you enjoy it, do you not?”

“I enjoy my work here,” Drumknott said, and Vetinari smiled, dragging him closer, until Drumknott settled his hand on the Patrician’s shoulder to keep from falling into his lap, and Vetinari played a delicate pattern over the side of his waist. “You were so… _annoyed_. In the beginning.”

“Not annoyed,” Vetinari said.

“Don’t _lie_.”

Vetinari inhaled, thinning his lips, and he looked up at Drumknott, and then he turned his head, pressing a kiss to Drumknott’s knuckles where his hand settled on Vetinari’s shoulder. Drumknott shivered, his skin hot. “I was, perhaps, unenthused,” Vetinari allowed.

“You hated the locomotive from the beginning,” Drumknott said.

“I never hated it.”

“You _loathed_ it.”

“I didn’t understand your enthusiasm,” Vetinari said. “But— I was pleased that you _were_ enthusiastic. Albeit… taken aback, at times. I could hardly complain, however. I have often noted that after an afternoon with Iron Girder, you are _especially_ eager to sprawl in my bed.”

“You like to see me exhausted?”

“Oh, _yes_. Why else would I so often exhaust you, Drumknott?” Vetinari’s hand shifted, and Drumknott swallowed as his palm dragged over the back of Drumknott’s arse, grabbing at him through his trousers. “My general delight in your fatigue aside, _you_ enjoy it, and it so delights me to hear you enthuse about something. Locomotives, paperclips, or Ankh-Morpork, my dear: when you’re excited enough to forget yourself when you tell me about it, I am helpless but to indulge you.”

Drumknott swallowed. It was a loving confession, that much was sure, but he did feel guilty for abandoning his work, for abandoning his lordship… And yet Vetinari’s smile was soft and warm, and Drumknott wished he could—

 

“I can spare you for a few hours, and your juniors are well-trained. Besides, I should like to hear about the business at the station today. Moreover, the idea of you covered in smut, forming these _delightful_ new hard spots on your palms, coming back so _rugged_ …”

Drumknott laughed, slightly breathlessly. He _did_ like the energy along the railway tracks: the engineers and the stokers alike had assumed he’d be soft and useless, when it came to the engines, but they didn’t do that anymore. Hey knew he was strong and sharp and _competent_ , and it was— It was pleasant, he thought, to be seen in that light, to settle in with strong men and belong there. He did with the Dark Clerks, of course, but most of the Dark Clerks were like Drumknott himself: if strength there was, it was neatly hidden, settled away where no one might suspect it.

“Go,” Vetinari said. “I’ll see you later.”

“Thank you. I am— I am _grateful_ ,” Drumknott said.

“You can show me that later, too,” Vetinari murmured, delivering a playful smack, and Drumknott felt his cheeks burn with blood even as he stepped away.

**♔** **☩** **♔** **☩** **♔** **☩** **♔**

Drumknott dropped back in the hard wooden chair in the engine shed’s break room, smelling the coal in the air, the cinders, the smut, the oil… One of the stokers – Harrison – laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, and Drumknott laughed as he drew his cap off his head, his hair a muss underneath. His legs felt stiff and worked over, his shoulders aching – tonight, he’d want to have a hot bath when he got back to the palace, but…

Well.

On the past two occasions, when he had come back from working with Iron Girder, there had been a hot bath waiting for him in his and Vetinari’s rooms.

 “Drumknott, isn’t it?” asked the other stoker as Harrison left the room, dropping the door shut behind him. He was seated on the table, sipping at a cup of coffee, the scent thick on the air. He had a Dolly Sisters accent, and he was tall and muscular, his overalls hugging tight against his chest and his limbs. “You’re stronger than you look.”

“Yes,” Drumknott said, his lips twitching as he sipped at his tea.

“Working for the Patrician, is it?”

“That’s right. I’m his head clerk.”

“Handsome man.”

Drumknott turned to glance at him. He had dark hair, thick and curly about his head, although cropped in tight. Drumknott could see where his cap had made it settle into one position. He had a thick moustache, thicker than the stubble on his cheeks and chin, but it was his eyes that made Drumknott take pause. They were a deep brown, and they were focused on Drumknott, his gaze even, his greying eyebrows slightly raised.

“I’ve heard people say that,” Drumknott said quietly. “More so, now that they see his face in his paper all the time, I think.”

“You don’t see it?”

“Not especially.”

“And what sort of man _do_ you like?”

“You’re very forward, Stoker…?”

“Blake.”

“You ought learn to hold your tongue.”

“ _Ought_ I?” Blake set his cup down, and then he dropped down gracefully onto the ground, his boots making a _tap_ where they hit the stone floor. He walked with an easy saunter, long-legged grace giving the impression of some wild cat, and Drumknott sat very still in his seat as Blake came closer. “Forgive a man for being _curious_ , Mr Drumknott, but it seems to me like you enjoy the company of the stokers quite a bit.”

“Your curiosity is forgiven,” Drumknott said. “Your indecency is not. I suggest you keep your distance, Stoker.”

“ _Do_ you? And what’ll you do to me, Mr Drumknott, if I step a little closer?”

“Nothing you would ask for a second time,” Drumknott muttered, feeling the irritation burn under his skin as he stood up from his seat, walking across the room and setting his mug into the little bowl on the counter at the edge of the room, rinsing it out. He’d never had one of the stokers be so—

Some of them _flirted_ , that much was true, but none of them had _ever_ been so—

“First time’s sometimes the charm,” Blake said, and Drumknott felt him come up behind him. “You’re a hardworking man, Mr Drumknott. Seems a shame to have you cooped up in that Palace all day, working so hard.”

“This is an afternoon off,” Drumknott said crisply.

“Why don’t I show you how to relax, then?” Blake’s hand settled on his hip, and Drumknott grabbed at his wrist, but Blake shoved him back against the wall, his hands either side of Drumknott’s head, their chests pressed against one another as Blake pinned him in place.

“Stoker Blake,” Drumknott said, “I am _spoken_ for. I will give you _one_ moment to step back and away from—” Drumknott’s tongue stopped moving in his mouth, and he stared up at Blake’s face.

Blake’s face was… Handsome, yes. Angular. He had a hard chin and a hard jawline beneath the scruff of his beard, and beneath the moustache, Drumknott could see that his lips were very thin. His eyebrows were bushy, yes, but they had a sort of angular—

Understanding dawned.

Drumknott punched Vetinari in the jaw.

Vetinari groaned in pain as he stumbled back, his hand over his jaw as Drumknott shook out his hand, feeling the hard punch against his own knuckles. “ _Drumknott!”_ Vetinari hissed, sharp and indignant. “What was _that_?”

“You ass!” Drumknott hissed, rubbing at the back of his hand and very much regretting his decision to punch upward. It would have been more satisfying, he thought, to punch Vetinari in the belly and watch him double over. “I can’t believe you! You— You—! What if I'd been seduced, what if I'd—”

"You wouldn't have."

"You're such an  _ass_ ," Drumknott snapped again. 

“Let me see your hand,” Vetinari said, and Drumknott exhaled, but he put out his hand all the same, watching irritably as Vetinari drew his hand up to his mouth and kissed his reddened knuckles one by one. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t?” Vetinari asked, still holding Drumknott’s hand.

“I _don’t_ ,” Drumknott said. Vetinari’s face slowly faded away again, and Drumknott was left looking into Stoker Blake’s confident, smirking expression: the face of a man who very much knew he was the best stoker on the line, and it was— It was _attractive_ , that confidence. Overpowering, almost, quietly superior in its way, and Drumknott felt his mouth dry out just slightly.

“Don’t _lie_ , Drumknott,” Blake said, and Drumknott felt the blush crawling up his cheeks, burning up the length of his neck, and he reached up, touching the side of his jaw, where he’d punched him. The stubble felt real.

“It won’t bruise, will it?”

“If it does, I’ll have something fun to tell people at the next meeting of the guild heads,” Blake murmured, leaning in closer, and then he spoke in Vetinari’s voice: “I was provoking my clerk, and he sucking punched me in the jaw. Can you believe that of Mr Drumknott?”

“ _Sucker_ punched,” Drumknott said. “You _know_ it’s—"

Stoker Blake kissed him.

He wound his hands up and into Drumknott’s hair, grabbing at the locks and dragging Drumknott up so that Blake could kiss him deeper. This wasn’t like Vetinari’s kisses, slow and delicately controlled. This was vicious and biting, taking command of Drumknott’s mouth and making him let out a desperate little noise as Blake shoved him back against the wall.

The door opened, and Drumknott gasped in a breath as he drew away from Blake’s mouth, tipping back against the wall.

Stoker Harrison lingered in the doorway, raising his eyebrows and leaning back slightly. Stoker Blake’s expression only showed a smug satisfaction as he turned to meet his gaze.

“Stoker,” Blake said.

“Stoker,” Harrison said, with a small grin. “Throw me my scarf, would you?”

Blake reached past Drumknott, grabbing the neckerchief from the hook behind him on the wall, and tossed it back to Harrison, who gave them each a salute and a wink before he left the engine shed again.

Drumknott stared up at Blake’s face, feeling the enthralling _desperation_ of it, of being seen in public by somebody else, and for them to never even _know_ , and to— to just be _amused_. To—

“You can’t have the Patrician,” Stoker Blake murmured in his ear, and his voice was a little deeper than Vetinari’s, a little more resonant, as well as the accent. It felt odd, letting— But he _wasn’t_ another man. His face was different, his voice, his personality, even, but it was still _Vetinari_ … “But you can have me. Wherever you like.”

“What’s it for?” Drumknott asked, feeling slightly light-headed, like he had at the beginning, when Vetinari had first started to let him come closer. It was _dizzying_ , the way he felt, blown away by the _wonder_ of it, of being in the engine shed with a man leaning over him, their mouths together…

“I’ll need to be able to go down the line, later on, without drawing any attention,” Blake murmured. “I can’t do that, I fear, as the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork.”

“This is a side benefit, then?” Drumknott asked.

“No,” Blake murmured. “No, the espionage is the side benefit, or it will be later on. _This_ is the primary one.” Drumknott’s breath caught in his throat. Vetinari had said things to him like that before, that much was true, but it was different, to be in a place so _public_ , and to be… Not _prioritised_ over the work, but to be important, to be… “You want me to sweep you off your feet?”

“Oh,” Drumknott said. “No. Not right now.”

“Mind if I kiss you again?”

Drumknott nodded his head, and he sighed into Blake’s mouth as the other man kissed him again. He knew Vetinari didn’t like it, kissing, he knew, but Blake felt like he did, Blake felt like he was _devouring_ him, Blake felt—

 “You hate it?” Blake asked, and Drumknott could _hear_ the infuriating smirk in his voice. It grated on him, and yet, his skin was alight, and it _enthralled_ him—

“Yes,” Drumknott said.

“ _Liar_ ,” Blake said, and he nipped at the side of his jaw before he grabbed Drumknott close again, so that they were cheek-to-cheek, chest-to-chest. He could feel Blake’s breath in his ear, feel the way he was bent over slightly to accommodate the position, feel the _muscle_ beneath his smut-stained clothes, smell sweat and oil and steel and coal—

“You’re going to kill me,” Drumknott said.

“Not today,” Blake murmured. “Not enough time – you’ve to get back to the Palace, boyo.” Blake caught his lip under his teeth, dragging at it as he slapped the side of Drumknott's thigh, and Drumknott leaned after him as Blake drew away, ruffling his hair.

“Oh, I _hate_ you, Stoker Blake.”

“That’s what I’m here for, lad,” Blake purred, giving Drumknott a wink that was nothing short of lascivious. He tossed Drumknott his hat, and Drumknott caught it, slowly drawing it onto his head. “See you about.”

“See you,” Drumknott echoed.

He felt Blake’s gaze on his back as he left the room, and he felt like he was walking on clouds of steam.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up [on Dreamwidth](https://dictionarywrites.dreamwidth.org/2287.html). You can send requests [on Tumblr](http://patricianandclerk.tumblr.com/ask), too. Requests always open.


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